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dead than a great reckoning in a little room:--Truly, I would the gods had made tliee poetical.

Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing?

Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do feign.

Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made me poetical?

Touch. I do, truly: for thou swear'st to me, thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might ha some hope thou didst feign.

Aud. Would you not have me honest?

Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favourd: for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey sauce to sugar.

Jaq. A material fool*!

Aud. Well, I am not fair; and there the gods make me honest!

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upou foul slut, were to put good meat into a dislı.

Aud. I am not a slut. though I thank the gou. am foult.

Touch. Well, praised be the gods fort
uess! sluttishness may copie hereafter.
- as it may be, I will marry thee: and to to
have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vic
next village; who hath promised to meet me in
place of the forest, and to couple us.

Jaq. I would fain see this meeting.
Aud. Well, the gods give us joy!

Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of
ful heart, stagger in this attempt; for
no teniple but the wood, no assembly but

good meat into an unclean

n I thank the gods I

le the gods for thy fouly cobie hereafter. But be it

thee: and to that end I lar-text, the vicar of the

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way, if he were of a fear attempt; for here we have o assembly but horn-beasts. ge! As horns are odious,

But what though? Courage

+ Homely.

* A fool with matter in him.

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AS SOU LIKE IT the smatrati la slittle moto -> I d the good made the portial

dudida sot know what poctials: la dend, at vand? Is it a true ching!

Pack No, tralr: for the truest proje ma g it; and lovers are great per Whether la poetry, may be said, "

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Touch. Well, praised be the gods

! slottishness may come hereste it may be, I will marry thee: a

reco with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the
fet village; who bath promised to me
lace of the forest, aod to couple as

Jag. I would fain see this meeting
Jud. Well, the gods give us joy!

Touch. Amen. A man may, ube
heart, stagger in this attempt;
eurple but the wood, no assem
what thoughi Courage! As

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you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is : this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.

Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.

Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.

Touch. Come, sweet Audrey;
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry,
Farewell, good master Oliver!

Not-o sweet Oliver,

..O brave Oliver, Leave me not behi' thee;

But-Wind away,

Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding wi' thee.

Ereunt Jac. Touch, and Audrey.
Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantasti
of them all shall Aout me out of my calling. 14

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Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep.

Cel. Do, I prythee: but yet have the grace consider, that tears do not become a man.

Ros. But have I not cause to weep?
Cel. As good cause as on

s good cause as one would desire; there. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.

something browner than Judas's: marry, kisses are Judas's own children.

fore weep.

marry, his


AS YOU LIKE IT. to , sad have a good griest iz o

what rige is: this fellow vill be tatthet uthy join wainscot; then

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Ros. l'faith, his hair is of a good colour.

Cel. An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever the only colour.

Ros, And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?

Cel. Nay certaiuly, there is no truth iu him.
Ros. Do you think so ?

Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think bim as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm-eaten nut.

Ros. Not true in love?
Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think he is not in.

Ros. You have heard him swear downright, be was.

Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is no stranger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: He attends here in the forest on the duke your father.

Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him. He asked me, of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh'd, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando?

Cel: 0, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks tisem bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lovert: as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose : but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides:Who comes here?

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His very hair is at the dissembling i Somethine browser than Judas 3: ke Judas's owo children,

Enter Corin,

Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired After the shepherd that complain'd of love; Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. Cel.

Well, and what of him?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdam,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.

O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love:-
Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say..
I'll prove a busy actor in their play. Let


Another part of the Forest.

Enter Silvius and Phebe.

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a sight of death makes

Sil. Sweet Pbebe, do not scorn me; do not
Say, that you love me not; but say not so
In bitterness: The common executioner,
Whose heart the accustom'd sight of dea

Falls not the axe upon the humble neck,
But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?

Enter Rosalind. Celia, and Corin, at a distance

Phe. I would not be thy executioner; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.

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